


Nothing Left to Lose

by secretkeeper18



Series: ColdWestAllen White Collar AU [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014), White Collar
Genre: AU, Angst, Bisexual Barry Allen, F/M, M/M, Married Couple, Multi, OT3, Pansexual Leonard Snart, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Slow Burn, white collar au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretkeeper18/pseuds/secretkeeper18
Summary: “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.“Snart,” Caitlin said, voice a little low and serious. “He escaped."It was like time froze. Barry took a deep breath. Caitlin had spoken softly, but everyone had heard. He grit his teeth, trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to push up his throat."U.S. Marshalls are requesting your help personally.”Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why me?”Cisco snorted a bit, brushing his friend and coworker’s jacket off from the leftover plaster. “Probably because you’re the only one who’s ever caught him.”His head throbbed again and his shoulders slumped. “Of course,” Barry grumbled.***In which FBI Agent Barry Allen and his White Collar Task Force need help from his ex-lover, a con artist he arrested four years ago, to catch the Wizard, all the while trying to sort out feelings he thought he'd buried long ago.ORThe ColdWestAllen White Collar AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1 - Barry

“ _Drop 3._ ” His technician’s voice crackled from other the comm.

Barry held his breath, waiting in anticipation.

There was a short pause, and then, “ _Drop 2._ ”

Soft murmurs. Barry could feel his agents getting a bit excited, and he couldn't blame them. They’d been at this for hours now and were so close to finally getting a lead on the Wizard.

“ _Drop 4_.” Came the final response. “ _Preparing to open_.”

Something felt wrong. Barry always trusted his gut; his foster father had always told him his gut was his best tool in the field. Out of all the numbers on a combination lock, why would the numbers be 3-2-4? Usually, single digits were for smaller locks, or phone passcodes...

Phones. 3-2-4.

Barry’s eyes widened. “WAIT!”

_BOOM!_

Barry and the rest of the agents all flinched, covering their mouths and faces. The explosion was small and controlled, but that didn’t stop him from racing into the vaults and reaching for the people inside amidst the dust and plaster in the air, causing his eyes to burn and tear up.

“Everyone okay?” He coughed.

“Yeah.” The man he pulled out straightened as the air began to settle. “What happened?”

Barry, given the affirmation that no one was hurt, immediately allowed the annoyance and anger to sink in. “What happened was that I said wait and you didn’t wait! Hours of manpower and now my evidence is in smithereens!”

“Barry,” Cisco said, placatingly. “How did you know that would happen?”

Barry loved Cisco like a brother, honestly, but his head felt like it would explode. “3-2-4. Check your phones. What does it spell?”

Everyone held up their phones. Barry watched the realizations dawn on their faces.

“FBI.” Cisco sighed. “He knew we were on to him.”

“Yeah.” Barry seethed, dusting his suit off. He held up a small fiber, plucked from his suit. “Who can tell me what this is? Huh?” He looked around expectantly. “No one.” He sighed in disappointment, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. Before he could go off again, Caitlin walked in, causing Barry to relax a bit.

“Ah, Caitlin-“ he stopped suddenly, because the look on her face was a bit too grim for such a situation. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“Snart,” Caitlin said, voice a little low and serious. “He escaped.”

It was like time froze. Barry took a deep breath. Caitlin had spoken softly, but everyone had heard. Barry turned to the agents in the room. He grit his teeth, trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to push up his throat. “Somebody get West in here, he’s in charge of you idiots.”

There were murmurs and indignant noises, but no one dared protest. They all knew the name “Snart” and knew better than to argue with Barry at a time like this. Besides, probationary agent or not, Wally knew what he was doing. Barry, still feeling a bit sick to his stomach, walked out of the vaults with Cisco and Caitlin at his side. Caitlin handed him a file while Cisco peered over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” Cisco asked.

“A request,” Caitlin said. “U.S. Marshalls are requesting your help personally.”

Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why me?”

Cisco snorted a bit, brushing his friend and coworker’s jacket off from the leftover plaster. “Probably because you’re the only one who’s ever caught him.”

His head throbbed again and his shoulders slumped. “Of course,” Barry grumbled.

“The Marshall also wants to know if you want to assign some guards for your wife until Snart is captured again,” Caitlin said, professionally, but even Barry could hear the incredulity in her tone.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Barry rolled his eyes. “Tell them to forget about it, and steer their manpower into actually catching him, not bothering Iris. She can handle herself.”

* * *

  **Iron Heights**

“You must be Agent Barry Allen.” A man greeted them as soon as they entered the prison. “U.S. Marshall Eiling.” He held his hand out to shake his. Barry took it, grimacing. “You were the case agent in charge of catching Leonard Snart.”

“Yes, I was,” Barry said, simply. “Spent three years of my life tracking him down.”

“You know him well then,” Eiling said, rhetorically. “So you’ll agree this is a rather... unusual case.”

Barry glanced at Caitlin and Cisco, who were standing just slightly behind him on either side. “If by unusual you’re referring to his escape only three months before his scheduled release, then yes, I agree.” Another man entered the waiting area, the gate closing behind him.

“This is Warden Pope,” Eiling said. “Agent Allen and his associates at the FBI, Agent Ramon and Dr. Snow.”

Barry shook his hand. “Ah, so you’re the one responsible for Snart’s escape.” His smile was a bit cold.

Pope did not seem happy being called out. “You, of all people, ought to know what Snart’s capable of,” he said, defensively  

Barry’s smile was cold. “I know he waltzed out your front door right under your nose after I spent three years of my life chasing him down.”

“Gentlemen,” Eiling interrupted. “Snart has a four hour head start. It is imperative we begin at once.”

Barry followed Eiling further into the prison. “Four hours?” he muttered to Cisco. He shrugged.

They walked past the visitation rooms, Barry peering around every corner curiously.

“Trying to see the route he would take to get out?” Caitlin asked.

“No,” Barry grimaced, his voice a whisper, low enough that neither the Marshall nor the warden could overhear. “Wondering how the hell my dad spent over a decade locked up here.”

They entered the cell block when Barry cleared his throat. “I was told he exited the staff bathroom and came out in a guard uniform.” The warden nodded, pointing at the bathroom door as they passed it, heading to Snart’s cell.

“Where’d he get it?” Barry asked.

“Uniform manufacturing company online,” Eiling said.

“He used a credit card?” Barry asked incredulously.

Pope suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. Eiling shot him a pointed look. “He- uh... used my wife’s visa.” He admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed.

Barry was glad they turned into Snart’s cell so he could turn his face away from the other men and hide the smirk growing on his face. He heard Cisco snicker and Caitlin elbow him.

“We’re tracing the number in case he uses it again.” Eiling hastily assured him.

Barry did his best to push down his own amusement as he said, “He won’t.”

He stepped into the small cell, about six by four feet, and examined it. Barry traced his hands over the markings on the wall- tally marks. His eyes glazed over the drawings Snart had hung up. Detailed and colorful, as usual. His attention then turned to his small desk and bed, mildly surprised by the mess. Snart was a neat freak if he’d ever met one, so Barry was a bit taken aback by the mess. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past Snart to just lay out everything, knowing Barry would be the one to come here and find it all anyways.

“There were key cards for the gates,” Barry noted idly. “How’d he get past them?”

“We think he restriped a utility card using the record head on that cassette tape,” Pope said.

Barry popped open the record player and snorted a bit. The cassette tape was indeed practically destroyed.

“Should’ve given him a CD player,” he said, wryly. Barry sat on Snart’s bed, picking up the books he had clearly purposefully left out for him to find.

“Lemme guess.” He held up the truck maintenance book. “He hot wired a truck out in the parking lot, and you guys found it ditched at... oh, let me take a wild guess.” He held up a brochure. “Central City International Airport?”

Eiling nodded. “We’ve put out alerts all over the city, put up roadblocks at every major road within a four hour radius, and beefed up security at the airport in case he tries to leave from there.”

Barry scoffed a bit. “You’re not gonna find Leonard Snart using roadblocks and wanted posters,” he said. “If I’d done that, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now because Snart would have never stepped foot in this facility, much less back out.” That’s when something caught his eye. Barry bent over the bed and picked up a broken shard of mirror and a razor.

“He shaved his beard right before he escaped,” Pope said, noticing his confused face.

Barry looked up, noting Cisco looking just as confused as him. “Snart doesn’t have a beard.”

“We’ll go to the security offices now,” Pope suggested. “You can see for yourself.”

For a maximum security prison, Iron Heights’ security room was small, stuffy, and outdated. There was only one guard behind the screens, and based on his shirt full of stains and crumbs, he wouldn’t be of much help.

“Cisco?” Barry said, instead.

Cisco grinned and all but shoved the security officer out of his seat, cracking his knuckles. “I did some- ahem, light reading on the security of these facilities,” Cisco said, typing furiously on the keys. “You guys photograph the prisoners every morning before they exit their cells.”

“Yes,” Pope said, sounding mildly surprised. Cisco pulled up an image. Barry blinked a bit as the image was enlarged.

“I barely recognize him,” Barry admitted, staring at the image of Leonard Snart from that morning, with a full length beard and even hair growing far longer than he had ever seen in person.

“Probably the point,” Caitlin said, helpfully. “No one would easily recognize him once he shaved and buzzed his hair again.”

Barry felt like laughing at the sheer audacity, but refrained himself. “Cisco, rewind until you find the day he stopped shaving.”

“Way ahead of you.” Cisco grinned. The photographs began rewinding. Barry watched as each picture flicked by, the beard shrinking and hair shortening as each second ticked by. Then, the images stopped. “Here.”

“I wanna know everything that happened that day,” Barry ordered. “Visitation records, hospital records, everything.”

The warden quickly brought him a box of files.

Caitlin picked up the medical file. “Huh, didn’t know Snart was diabetic.”

Barry glanced up from his own file. “He’s not,” he said, then glared back at his own file. _One problem at a time..._  He reminded himself. “Looks like Snart had one visitor that day,” he noted, placing the records on the table and running his finger down the paper. “It was...” Barry trailed off, shot a quick glance at Cisco, and said, quietly, “Lisa Snart.”

Cisco tensed a bit. Caitlin looked at him with concern. “I’ll pull up visitation footage,” he said, shortly.

“Lisa Snart.” Eiling repeated. “You know her?”

Cisco didn’t stop typing. Caitlin averted her eyes to watch Cisco work. Barry sighed. “Yeah, we do.”

“Here,” Cisco said, shortly. “Security footage from that visit.”

“No audio?” Barry asked, leaning over Cisco’s chair.

“Nope.” He shook his head.

Barry hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing at the footage.

Caitlin, from behind him, flipped through the older visitation records. “Lisa visited her brother every week, like clockwork. But after this visit, she stopped.”

“Hm,” Barry leaned in a bit. “So what changed? What made this visit different?”

“Look at her body language.” Cisco pointed at the black and white screen with his pen. “She’s constantly looking around, and checking her watch. She’s tense and constantly fidgeting. Last we saw her, she was cool as a cucumber, and that was her in an FBI interrogation room in handcuffs.”

“How fast can we get a lip reader in here?” Eiling finally interrupted them.

“We’ll save you the trouble,” Barry murmured, eyes never leaving the screen as Lisa stood up. “‘Bye, Lenny. Don’t come after me.’”

“Well, that’s out of character.” Cisco frowned.

“It’s been four years, Cisco,” Caitlin reminded him, gently. “Things change.”

“The question is... how much?” Barry muttered.

* * *

They pulled up to the apartment building, sirens blaring. It was the only one under Lisa Snart’s name, and therefore the only place Leonard Snart might have gone. Barry wondered if it was too easy, but Snart was not as complicated as he liked to make people believe. He escaped with a single goal in mind, and this was the only place he could possibly be.

“No one enters until my say so,” Barry ordered, strapping on his vest and striding toward the entrance of the apartment.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Caitlin asked, worriedly.

“Snart has proven he doesn’t have any issue shooting you in the past,” Cisco added.

“He missed,” Barry muttered, entering the building.

Barry found Snart sitting in an almost completely empty room, cradling a bottle of wine, with his back to the exit. He didn’t even bother drawing his gun.

“I see Lisa moved out,” Barry said, conversationally.

Snart didn’t even turn around. “Barry,” he greeted, voice low.

“She leave you a message, at least, in that bottle?”

Snart laughed a bit hollowly. “The bottle is the message.”

There was a soft pause.

“It’s been a while,” Barry said, quietly.

“Yeah,” Snart exhaled. “Three years, eight months, twenty eight days, and fifteen hours ago, to be precise. If you were wondering.”

Barry felt a smile tug on his lips. “I wasn’t wondering,” he said, slipping into their familiar banter. He approached him. “You carrying?”

Snart shook his head. “You know I don’t. Not since...” He didn’t need to finish.

Barry nodded. “You know, they asked me what would make a man audacious enough to escape prison with three months left on a four year sentence. The right question would be to ask me what would make _you_ audacious enough to escape prison with three months left on a four year sentence.”

Snart scoffed. “You clearly figured it out, Barry.”

“Not like you tried to hide much in your cell.” Barry shot back. “Your sister says bye to you in prison, then disappears. You taught her well... maybe a little too well. This is where her trail ends, right?” He wasn’t asking for affirmation.

Snart sighed. “I missed her by two days,” he said.

“Still,” Barry said, pulling his walkie talkie out of his belt. “Only took you two months to escape a supermax. Pretty impressive.”

Snart snorted a bit.

“All clear,” Barry said, into the walkie talkie. “Subject identified and unarmed.”

“ _Roger that_.” Cisco’s voice came in from the other side.

Snart’s head perked up a bit, which is probably the only positive reaction Barry has ever seen from Snart wheneber Cisco was mentioned. “That Ramon?”

Barry looked amused. “Yeah.”

“Does he-” Snart’s Adam apple bobbed a bit. “Does he know where-“

“No.” Barry shot him down immediately. “Cisco... he broke all ties with her, and he’s been good keeping to that. Don’t worry about her now, Snart. I think you’ve got some other things to worry about.”

Snart shrugged. “I’m a big brother,” he said. “Worrying is in my nature.”

Barry sighed. “What’s the message?” He nodded toward the bottle in Snart’s hands.

“‘Goodbye’.” Snart gently placed the bottle on the floor next to him.

Another short pause.

“Women,” Barry offered.

Snart scoffed a bit in amusement.

“We’re gonna give you another four years for this, you know,” Barry said, not without sympathy.

“Don’t care anymore,” Snart said simply. “I’ve got nothing left to lose.” Then, he eyed Barry, head to toe, and smirked.

“What?” Barry demanded, feeling very self conscious suddenly.

Snart huffed out a laugh and stood up. “That,” he said. “is the same suit you wore when you arrested me nearly four years ago.”

Barry frowned, looking down at himself. “I like this suit,” He defended.

“I can tell, Scarlet.” Snart smirked again.

Barry groaned. “Again with the ‘Scarlet’ thing.” Snart chuckled, then paused a bit. He was staring at Barry’s shoulder. Barry raised an eyebrow. Snart carefully plucked something from his jacket. He held up a fiber from the Wizard case. Snart looked intrigued.

“You know what this is?” he asked, looking intrigued.

Barry sighed. “I wish,” he muttered. “I got it from a case I was working on before I got dragged off to chase you down again.”

“Think you’ll catch him?” Snart asked.

Barry grimaced. “Dunno. The guy’s good. Nearly as good as you.” The last part was a bit teasing, but Snart’s eyes narrowed.

“How much is it worth if I tell you what this is?” he asked.

Barry blinked, completely floored. “You know where this is from?”

“Is it worth a visit?” Snart continued, instead.

“I-“ Barry glanced behind him, where he could tell his men were already approaching. “What are you-“

“I will tell you what this is, right here right now, if you agree to see me in prison in one week,” Snart pressed.

Barry was curious. He’ll admit it. “Fine. Yes.”

Snart held it out to him with that infuriatingly smug grin. “It’s a security fiber for the new Canadian 100-dollar bill,” he said.

Barry took it, stunned, but before he could say anything else, the door burst in. Snart raised his arms above his head without even breaking eye contact with Barry. He allowed himself to be cuffed. “One week,” he repeated, staring directly at Barry, who found himself nodding dumbly.

Barry watched him leave, still staring at the fiber in his fingertips in stunned silence.

* * *

About a week later, Barry walked out of the bullpen and toward the elevators, meeting up with Cisco. “Hey, Cisco. What's up?"

Cisco looked at him with a grin. “Snart was right. That thing you found was a security fiber for the new Canadian hundred dollar bill. Apparently, it’s still highly classified.”

Barry eyes widened. “I’m guessing the Canadians were not happy,” he said, entering the elevator.

“Now that’s an understatement. I mean, you might’ve started an international incident, but you were right, so who cares?” Cisco grinned, as the elevator began to descend.

“I imagine the Canadians do,” Barry said, dryly.

“They sure are curious how you got that information,” Cisco admitted. “Stuff’s top level classified. Even Felicity would have a hard time finding that info.”

Barry chuckled. “Looks like I’ve got a visit to make,” he said, exiting the elevator to the parking garage. After a quick text to Iris that he'd be late for dinner, he drove straight to Iron Heights.

The guards had him wait in the visitation room while they brought Snart in. He smiled as soon as he sat down. "Glad to see you keep your promises, Barry,” he drawled.

“How’d you know?” Barry asked, skipping the pleasantries.

Snart leaned back in his chair. Barry eyed him warily, trying to ignore the smug smirk on his face.

“Barry,” he tutted. “I make it my business to be informed. This is my line of work, after all.”

Barry sat down, and crossed his legs. “You wanted a meeting, so here I am. What do you want?”

Snart leaned in. “I know why you call him the Wizard,” he said, instead.

“Ah, so you read Central City Picture News, then. You and about a million other people,” Barry deadpanned.

“Yes, I do. Congratulate Iris on my behalf, please. I do so enjoy her work. Interesting stance, lovely prose style,” Snart said.

Barry rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to. Continue.”

“He’d disappear, like magic, whenever you got too close.”

Barry nodded. “Cisco named him, actually,” he offered. “Everytime we found something, it turned into some dead end. Or, in last week’s case, ended in an explosion. Cisco and Iris actually wanted to name him Weather Wizard, because we kept getting called in on days with bad thunder storms or blizzards, and he and my wife are suckers for alliteration.” Barry couldn’t help but sigh fondly at the mention of Iris. “But I talked them out of it. How do you know about Wizard anyways?”

Snart raised an eyebrow. “You know about my life, you think I don’t know about yours?” he paused, then asked, “Did you get the birthday cards?”

“They were a nice touch.”

“I thought so.” Snart smirked. “You’ve been after the Wizard almost as long as you were chasing me. I don’t really like being shown up, so here’s my proposal: I help you catch him.”

Barry looked at him incredulously. “Snart-“

“Hear me out,” Snart insisted, pushing a folder to him. Barry opened it, scanning the contents briefly. “There’s case law- precedent, of confidential informants. You have a long history and a good track record with the bureau, and I have a decent history with no violence or murder.”

“That wasn’t in defense,” Barry added, a bit harshly. Snart seemed taken aback by that comment, so Barry took a deep breath, and reeled himself in.

“Sorry, that was out of line…” He bit his lip and hesitated. Finally, he said, “Okay, fine, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested, so I’ll look into it. But... I don’t make any promises, okay, Snart?”

His eyes widened. “Really, you’ll consider it?” He sounded so surprised.

“You sound so shocked I’m going for it,” Barry said, standing and closing the file.

“Didn’t think I’d get this far,” Snart admitted.

Barry snorted. “I know you, Snart. I always said, I knew there was more to you. I’m hoping this will prove I was right all those years ago. That there’s more you can be than some art thief.”

Snart tsked. “Technically, I was only ever convicted of bond forgery.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about it, Snart. Something like this, though, requires a lot of trust. And we have a history, so I’m just not sure-“

“-if you can trust me,” Snart finished, face devoid of any emotion. “I get it. It’s already a lot, of me, asking for you to meet me here. I meant what I said, before, when you caught me. I have nothing to lose here. Thank you, Barry, I mean it.”

Snart stared at him so earnestly. Barry gave a short nod and stood to leave, trying to ignore the tightening in his throat. As he left the prison, he couldn’t help but think that the last thing he wanted to do was trust Leonard Snart again.


	2. Chapter 2 - Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry sighed. “Leonard Snart.”
> 
> He felt his wife stiffen a bit. “What about him?”
> 
> “I just... I don’t get it,” Barry said, frustrated. “He’d be out today, if he didn’t run. Snart serves almost four years, escapes, knowing full well I’d catch him again, then gives me critical information to my current case and suggest I let him out to be a confidential informant for the FBI? It doesn't make sense. Then again, nothing that man did ever made sense.” He muttered this last part.
> 
> “So you’re considering his offer,” Iris concluded.

Barry was staring at his folders and files so intently, he didn’t even notice Iris until she had her arms snaking around his chest from behind. “You coming to bed tonight?”

Barry rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Wha- yeah, yeah, of course.” He reassured her.

Iris rested her chin on Barry’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Barr?”

Barry sighed. “Leonard Snart.”

He felt his wife stiffen a bit. “What about him?”

“I just... I don’t get it,” Barry said, frustrated. “He’d be out today, if he didn’t run. Snart serves almost four years, escapes, knowing full well I’d catch him again, then gives me critical information to my current case and suggest I let him out to be a confidential informant for the FBI? It doesn't make sense. Then again, nothing that man did ever made sense.” He muttered this last part.

“So you’re considering his offer,” Iris concluded. “Could Snart really help you find Wizard?”

“Snart’s pretty smart,” Barry admitted. “Especially for a guy who never even graduated high school, much less had an engineering degree. You know how much I like smart. I married you, after all,” he added, with a goofy smile.

Iris laughed. “Ooh, good one.” She kissed him, then pulled back. “So if you’re so sure he’d be of help, why are you so hesitant?”

Barry sighed. “I don’t know. I thought- I thought I was over it. I thought I was over what he did to us- what he did to me,” he admitted.

Iris stroked his hair. “Oh, Barry," she murmured.

“Yeah, it’s stupid. It was, like, four years ago, and I should be made of thicker skin than that, but still. I thought I’d be past it, by now, but somehow Leonard Snart will always find a way to get to me, huh?”

Iris sighed. “Barry, it is not stupid. Your feelings are valid no matter how long ago it happened. I love you, you know. You’re impossible not to love. Maybe what Leonard told you all those years ago- maybe that part wasn’t a con. Maybe you convinced yourself it was all an elaborate scheme to protect yourself from the heartbreak.”

Barry sighed. “I dunno, Iris. I just- I need to separate my personal feelings about Leonard Snart and my professional ability to do what needs to be done to catch Wizard.”

“Barry...” Iris stroked his hair soothingly. “If you really believe he can help, I think you should go for it.”

”That- that man lied to us for over a year.” Barry suddenly growled, slamming Leonard Snart’s folder shut.

Iris huffed, pulling back a bit. “That man,” she deadpanned. “Used to share our bed, Barry.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Barry argued. “He hurt us so badly- the last thing I want is to let him back into our lives again, like nothing ever happened.”

“Really,” Iris said, disbelievingly. “How’s that working out for you?”

Barry winced. He thought about his meeting with Snart when he caught him again and then later at the prison. They had slipped into their usual banter so quickly- like four years had not passed and Snart had not broken their hearts after almost two years of lying and deception.

Iris continued, “I can understand why you’re being so hard on him, but not why you’re not being more open minded. Maybe he really does want to help. Maybe he really wants to reconcile with us. Maybe it’s not all a lie, like you think it is, like you’re expecting it to be. It _has_ been four years, Barry. People change.”

“How much?” Barry retorted, stubbornly. “Snart said it himself; he was born a criminal, he was raised a criminal, and he’ll live as a criminal. Four years in Iron Heights doesn’t change that.”

Iris reached up and cupped Barry’s face in her hands. “Barry Allen, you were the one who spent a year telling everyone how much good Len had in him and convincing Dad he was good enough for us-“

“That was before it turned out he was a criminal, a con artist, _that his name wasn’t even Michael Scofield_!” he growled. “He lied to us, Iris, for nearly a year.”

“Barry,” Iris said, disapprovingly, then sighed. “Promise me, okay? That you’ll at least try. You’re the forgiving one in this relationship, remember? If I think Len deserves a second chance, then you should at least give him a shot.”

Barry wanted to protest, because the last thing he wanted to do was put himself and his wife in a vulnerable position again. “Agh- fine. I promise.”

Iris took his hand in hers. “Thank you," she said, sincerely, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good man, Barry Allen. Leonard Snart is lucky he picked the right man to fall in love with.”

Barry scoffed a bit at that last part; he wondered if his so-called “love” had ever even been real. Nonetheless, he leaned down and kissed his wife, then pulled back and looked at her lovingly. “Well, what does that say about you? What would I even do without you?” he wondered, smiling.

Iris kissed his cheek. “You’d probably be lost,” she teased. “Now come to bed, you big goofball. It's late.”

Barry smiled and shut his laptop. “Alright.”

* * *

The prison gate slid open. Barry leaned against the car as Leonard Snart strolled out of Iron Heights.

“Let me see it.” was the first thing out of Barry’s mouth as Snart approached him.

“My, my, getting awfully forward with age, aren’t we, Scarlet?” Snart smirked, but obliged. He lifted up his pant leg, revealing the tracking anklet.

“You understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, right, Snart?” Barry said, rhetorically.

“Yeah, I read it all over. I let this thing drag me down while I’m under your custody, and I help you solve crimes. Anything I’m missing?” Snart rolled his eyes.

“If you run, and I catch you,” Barry took a step forward, “then you’re right back in prison. Probably for way more than four years.”

“I know,” Snart said. “I won’t run.”

Barry narrowed his eyes, and didn’t budge. “I mean it, Snart. I won’t be able to help you. That means no going after Lisa, okay?”

Snart sighed. “I told you. She said goodbye.”

Barry nodded. “Good.” He turned his back and slid into the driver’s seat. “Climb in, Snart.”

“If we’re gonna be working together, call me Len,” he said, seriously. “Snart was my father. And you know how I feel about my dear old dad.”

Barry sighed. “Len," he agreed, reluctantly.

“Where we going?” Len asked, buckling up.

Barry smirked, starting the engine. “Your new home.”

The drive was mostly done in silence until they pulled up in front of a motel. Len got out of the car and cool at the motel distastefully. “And here I was hoping I’d be bunking with you and the missus," he said, mournfully, as they entered the lobby.

Barry ignored him in favor for the man behind the desk. “This is Leonard Snart. My office called earlier about a room.”

The man hummed and held up a key chain. “Here you are.”

Len took it with a half grimace half forced smile. “Thank you. Uh, Barry, can I talk to you for a second?” He pulled the leaner man to the side. “I can’t do this.”

Barry looked at him incredulously. “You’ve been in prison for four years. And don’t think I haven’t seen your safe houses! This cannot be the worst place, Len.”

“Just because I have, doesn’t mean I want to.” Len grumbled.

“Look, it’s $700 a month, exactly how much it costs to house you on the inside. Your radius is 2 miles, so if you can find something within that budget and radius that you like better, be my guest.” Barry sighed. “Otherwise, here.” He handed him a thick folder. “This is your homework. There’s a thrift shop a block down 32nd and a diner up 3rd. Be ready seven a.m. sharp tomorrow.”

* * *

Barry walked into the motel lobby at 6 a.m. cheerfully holding two coffee cups. He felt a bit bad for snapping at Len the other day, so he thought coffee seemed like a decent olive branch.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for Leonard Snart?”

“Snart? Oh, yeah.” The man behind the desk held out a small, folded up scrap of paper. “He left you a note.”

Barry placed his coffee onto the counter and unfolded the note.

 _Scarlet,_  
_Moved 1.6 miles._  
_2334 Chestnut Ave._  
_With love,_  
_Leonard Snart_

Barry scoffed and tore up the slip of paper. _Unbelievable..._  

He pulled up in front of an enormous house on the corner of a street full of old, large homes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He rang the doorbell. It was answered quickly by a middle aged lady who was clearly a maid. “Um, excuse me, I think I’ve got the wrong house. I’m looking for-“

“Leonard Snart?” the maid finished, knowingly. “He’s upstairs.”

* * *

 “I can’t believe you,” Barry deadpanned, walking onto the terrace. Leonard Snart sat in the chair, holding the paper in one hand and a small espresso cup in the other.

“Barry,” Len greeted, smiling as though there was nothing clearly wrong with this picture. “You’re early.”

Barry twitched a bit in annoyance. “And you moved.”

Len nodded very seriously. “Yeah. Funny story actually. Tess was donating some of her husband’s old clothes. Very nice stuff- couldn’t let it go to waste, you see.”

“Oh, that’d be tragic.”

“Indeed.” Len poured another cup of espresso, placed delicately on a tiny saucer, and handed it to Barry. “Anyway, we got talking, and we hit it off. Nice lady, had this empty guest room and wanted some company. So we made an arrangement. $700 for rent, and I do a few favors for her, here, and there-“

“Oh yeah, I’m sure,” Barry tried not to let the annoyance sink into his voice. “Do the dishes. Walk the dog.”

Leonard Snart’s smirk was infuriating. “Babysit,” He drawled.

Barry’s face twitched again. “Babysitting?” he repeated, incredulously, wondering who the hell would let Leonard Snart watch their child. “She got you babysitting?”

Len smirked and merely nodded his head toward the direction of the door. “Her daughter.”

Barry mouthed the word "daughter" just as  _Jesse freaking Wells_ walked onto the terrace, smiling. “Morning, Lenny- oh, hi Barry!” She smiled at Barry, eyes flickering between Len and Barry in mild confusion.

Barry could feel his soul die a little on the inside. “Er, hi, Jesse,” Barry managed. “You coming over to Joe’s this Friday?” was for some reason the only thing he was able to say.

"Wouldn't miss Joe West's game nights for the world." Jesse nodded, smiling, and sat on one of the lawn chairs and stuffed her ears with her headphones. 

Len was smiling slyly still, but his eyebrows were raised. “I wasn’t aware you knew one another,” he practically purred, as soon as Jesse increased the volume loud enough for Barry and Len to just barely hear her music blaring.

Barry took a deep breath. “Don't," he grit out.

Len managed an innocent look. "What are you talking about?"

"First of all, ew, no. She's like half your age, you creep," Barry hissed.

"Never even crossed my mind. Jealous, Scarlet?" Len teased. Barry briefly wondered if Len was referring to himself, or Jesse. He decided not to follow that train of thought.

"Second of all, she’s engaged to my brother in law.” He continued as if Len had never spoken. “God- it's always a coincidence with you, isn’t it?”

Len shrugged. “Small world.” He changed the subject. “So what brings you here so early? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “half past six.”

Barry forced himself to focus on the job. “Hit on Snow White at the airport. He’s waiting in custody now,” Barry said.

Len nodded. “ _Snow White_. A phrase you and Cisco decoded from a communication from the Wizard to Barcelona.”

“So you _did_ do your homework.” Barry sipped his coffee, and groaned suddenly. “God, even the coffee is perfect. Iris would love this," he scowled.

Len was smiling a bit, amused. "No need for the envy, Barry. I have a feeling you'll be picking me up here more often than not, just take some then."

Barry shrugged. "It's not that," he admitted, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable and aware of his awkwardness. "I just... already bought you coffee. I mean- I don't mean anything by it, I just thought it’d be nice to get you Jitters for the first day.” His voice faltered as his sentence went on, cheeks feeling a bit warm.

Len looked oddly touched. “You bought me coffee?”

Barry shrugged, trying to brush it off nonchalantly. If the warm feeling on his face was any indication, he was unsuccessful. “I go there every morning anyway, and I wasn’t expecting you to have Italian roast.”

“The order was probably wrong,” Len said, though not unkindly, more in some convoluted way to make Barry feel better.

“Decaf, no sugar, just a touch of cream,” Barry recited, quietly. Len startled a bit, looking up at him.

Barry shrugged again. “Some things you never forget.”

There was an awkward silence.

Len wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. “I’ll go get dressed,” he muttered.

Barry sighed and leaned back against the chair as Tess Morgan entered the terrace.

“Morning, Mom,” Jesse greeted, looking up from her magazine.

“Morning.” Tess kissed her daughter on the cheek and let the small dog’s leash go, allowing it to jump on Jesse’s lap. She took Len’s empty seat, raising an eyebrow at Barry.

“Barry Allen,” she said, finally. “I have not seen you in a decade.”

Barry grimaced. “Nice to see you again, Tess,” he said, voice quiet. Then, he cleared his voice. “You know that anklet’s not, like, a fashion statement. Leonard Snart’s a criminal, and a liar. A con man.” He tried not to let himself sound as bitter as he felt.

Tess smiled a bit. “So was Harrison.” She pointed out.

Barry flinched and tried not to let her see that the comparison stung as much as it did.

* * *

Totally unfair. That’s what this was. It was _completely_ unfair.

Leonard Snart strolled down the stairs, each step made with precise purpose. He _should_ look ridiculous- in that stupid hat and matching suit. But he didn’t for whatever reason. It was like he’s been plucked out of a 1950s cartoon and dropped in the wrong century- but it fit him.

A little too well, if you asked Barry.

He looked at Barry with that infuriating smirk. “Well?”

Barry found his voice. “You look... good.” He settled on the adjective finally.

Whatever Len had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He blinked, taken aback for a moment. Barry could see that, for a split second, his walls faltered, before his usual smirk slid right back into place. “Thanks, Barry, glad to see someone appreciates a devore.”

Barry had no idea what that was, so he simply said, “Let’s go.”

The drive to the airport was speedy and uneventful. They entered the airport and looked around for Barry's team.

Len whistled lowly, eyes looking up and down the approaching figure. “Who’s that?”

Barry gripped the conman’s wrist warningly, maybe tighter than he initially intended because Len winced a bit. “That,” he growled, “is my probie.”

“Probie?”

“Probationary officer,” Barry said, shortly. “Wally. He does everything I don’t and does a very good job.” He straightened and turned his attention to the younger agent. “Wally,” Barry greeted.

Wally grinned at him. “Barry,” he greeted, then looked at Len. “You must be Leonard Snart. Barry has told me so much about-“ he stopped, noticing Barry’s glower. Wally coughed. “He’s mentioned you,” he amended, but the damage was done.

Len grinned, shark-like. “Really?” he purred.

“What’ve we got?” Barry cut in, hastily.

“The guy’s name is Danton Black,” Wally said. “Customs flagged him coming in from Spain in response to our Snow White BOLO.”

“Interesting,” Barry said, as they headed into the back room where some of his men were already searching through evidence. “What was he carrying that set off the red flags?”

Wally grinned again. “Oh, you’re gonna love this,” he unzipped a suitcase, revealing tens of small, yellow books.

“Snow White... in Spanish?” Len picked up a book. “Interesting choice. I would have preferred the classic German version, myself, but hey, to each his own.”

Barry ignored him. “What do we know about Danton Black?”

“He’s a rare book dealer, apparently,” Wally said, as Barry skimmed one of the books.

“He’s got, what, at least a few hundred here. Can’t be that rare,” Barry said, incredulously. “Anything wrong with his paper work?”

“None at all,” Wally said. “He did the exact same thing on three previous trips. Declared it each time. Perfectly legal.”

Barry hummed, then turned to Len. “What do you think? Are we wasting our time here?”

Len scanned one of the books under careful scrutiny. “Well, they’re not special runs or limited editions, from what I can tell. Like you said, there are hundreds here. Can’t be worth much.”

“So why would he go to the trouble of flying them here?” Barry muttered.

“I saw him,” Wally offered. “He was pretty nervous, especially for someone with the right paperwork.”

Barry looked thoughtful. “I wanna talk to him.”

“I'll set it up,” Wally told him, heading out. “You want some coffee?”

“I’m good,” Barry said.

Len smiled charmingly. “I’ll take some. Decaf, just a hint of cream, no sugar.”

“Coffee shop’s outside, Snart.” Wally smirked and stalked off. Len chuckled good naturedly and turned back to the bags of books.

“You’re wasting your time,” Barry told him, not even looking up from the book he was skimming.

Len shrugged. “Harmless fun,” he replied. “Some flirting. Like a dance.”

Barry snorted. “Nope. No dancing for you.”

Len looked at him, intrigued. “Really? Him?”

Barry cocked an eyebrow. “I didn't say anything about _him_ not dancing. Just none for _you_. He’s engaged, to your new roommate’s daughter, might I add.”

“ _That’s_ the brother in law?” Len exhaled. “Damn, what is it with me and your family?”

Barry wondered the same thing.

* * *

Barry entered the room. There was a few security officers inside, who were quickly taking their conversation elsewhere, aside from a short, thin man with glasses sitting in a chair by one of the tables.

“Barry Allen, FBI. You’re Danton Black?”

The man nodded, fidgeting. “Yes. FBI, huh? They’re really beefing up security, aren’t they...”

“You say you’re a rare books dealer,” Barry said, in lieu of an actual response.

Black nodded again, nervously, reaching into his back pocket and slipping a business card out of his wallet. “Yes, as I’ve told everyone already, I work in the importation and sale of rare books.”

Barry took the card, but his eyes didn’t leave the nervous man. Wally was right- he seemed awfully anxious. “How rare could they be? You’ve got 600 copies,” he said, slow and casual, as he sat in the chair opposite of he man. Barry leaned in, looking the man in the eye. “What are the books for?” he asked, voice low and deliberate.

Black opened and closed his mouth a few times, but before he could say anything, the door slammed open. A tall man, with wide, broad shoulders strode in. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my client,” he growled.

Barry swore internally. He stalked out of the room angrily and immediately tracked down Len, who was staring at one of the younger agents, Jax, who was chatting up one of the security officers at the airports.

“So no dancing with the brother in law. Okay. How about Agent Pretty Boy over there?”

"His name is Jax, Len, and Jax is about as green as they come." Barry rolled his eyes. “And I don’t care what you do in your off time, Snart.

“More ‘who’ than ‘what,’ Barry, and are we really back to the Snart thing again?” Len asked.

Barry felt his temper rise. “I could call you Michael again, for old times sake,” he snarked.

Len fell silent. His expression closed down inmediately.

Barry immediately felt a spike of guilt. He rubbed his temples. “Ugh- sorry, that wasn’t fair.”

“It was totally fair,” Len said.

“It was, yeah, but I shouldn’t have said it,” Barry muttered, still feeling guilty, but then feeling angry that he felt guilty. Len was right, in a way; he had totally deserved it. Still, Barry wasn’t someone to go out of his way to hurt others.

He spotted the customs inspector. “Hey!” He grabbed his attention. The inspector approached them. “Why didn’t you tell me Black lawyered up? As soon as he makes that call, I can’t talk to him.”

The inspector looked confused. “He didn’t call anybody.”

Barry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then how did his lawyer know to-“ he stopped. The pieces came together. Barry took off in a dead sprint toward the holding rooms, quickly followed by Wally, Len, and the inspector.

They were too late. Black lay on the table, a needle protruding from his neck. The lawyer was nowhere to be seen.

“Dammit!” Barry swore, taking Black's pulse. Nothing. “No one frisked the lawyer!”

“I need paramedics.” The inspector raced out of the room, barking out orders.

Barry rubbed a hand over his face and stalked out of the room. Len and Wally followed him into the room with Black's luggage. He slammed his hand down on the table. “All we’ve got is a dead book dealer, a killer lawyer, and a bunch of books.”

“I checked up on the books,” Wally said. “Snart was right, they’re not worth much.”

“Worthless books,” Barry amended, running a hand though his hair. “Len?”

Len tapped the book with a ruler thoughtfully. “These were published when and where?” he asked, suddenly.

“1944,” Wally said. “Madrid.”

“That’s... specific.” Barry frowned.

Len opened up the book, staring at the few blank pages in front of him. “This is what he’s after.”

Barry looked up. “What, the top sheet?”

“More specifically,” Len said, tearing off the blank sheets. “A piece of 1944 Spanish press paper.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “So he wants to counterfeit something that was originally printed on 1944 Spanish press paper,” he said, in understanding.

“It’s what I would do,” Len agreed.

Barry held up the sheet. “Black made two prior shipments before this. Two blank pages per book. That’s-“

“Six hundred sheets,” Len finished. “Too many for paintings.”

“Too little for currency,” Barry added. “Wally, do we have Black's wallet?”

Wally nodded, tossing it to him. Barry opened it, rifling through its pockets until he withdrew a small slip of paper. “National Archives. It’s dated a day before he left for Spain.”

* * *

“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Nate.” Barry shook his colleague’s hand.

“Anything for a friend, man.” Nate grinned.

Barry smiled back. “Len, this is Doctor Nathaniel Heywood. He’s been working for the National Archives for a decade now."

"Pleasure's all mine," Len said, charmingly, shaking his hand as well. Nate smiled back, obliviously.

"So what can I do for you guys?" he asked. "You rarely stop by, Barr. I know history's not really your thing, so what's up?"

Barry cleared his throat and all but nudged Len out of the way. "We're actually here for an investigation. We found an admission ticket to the archives in the wallet of a man we were investigating. Do you remember seeing this man?” He held up a picture of Danton Black.

Nate squinted at the photo, thinking for a moment, before his face lit up in recognition. “I remember him, yes, he came by several months ago, then again last week. Said he was writing a book.” Nate snapped his fingers. “I remember it so clearly.”

“Do you remember what he came to research?” Barry asked.

Nate nodded. “One moment.”

He returned from the backroom wearing latex gloves holding a thin piece of parchment on a tray.

“This is what he came to see.” He placed the paper in front of them carefully. “He took several photographs of it.”

“The Spanish Victory Bond,” Len said, drawing on his own pair of latex gloves. “It’s a Goya.”

Nate looked at him in mild surprise. “Yes, it is. It’s actually got a fascinating history-“

“Nate.” Barry interrupted, hastily, before his friend could go off on a tangent. “May I?”

Nate nodded quickly, taking a step back. “By all means.”

Barry held up the sheet of paper from the Snow White books and placed it up against the bond. “It’s a perfect fit.” He murmured, then looked up at Nate. “You said it had an interesting history?”

“Yeah, it was issued during the war.”

“1944, to be precise,” Len said, unsurprised.

“Yes.” Nate nodded, grinning. “The U.S. issued it to support the Spanish underground in their battle against the Axis. Very few have ever been redeemed. There’s even rumors that entire boxes were captured and hidden in the caves of Altamira.”

Barry’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced over at Len, who was inspecting the bond closely. “Entire boxes?” he repeated, curiously.

“Yeah, that’d be amazing, if they were ever recovered,” Nate said, excitedly. “This is the only surviving copy, I’m afraid.”

Len cut in, looking up. “Except it’s a forgery.”

Barry and Nate both froze. Barry looked at him, taken aback. He trusted Len's judgement, but it seemed so outlandish. Nate looked absolutely scandalized at the mere idea that the bond was a fake.

“That’s not possible,” Nate said, incredulously.

“What are you talking about?” Barry leaned over Len's shoulder to get a closer look at the bond himself.

“The ink,” Len explained. “Iron-gall dye mixed to match period colors. Much longer and it would’ve fooled me too, but it hasn’t dried yet. See, you can still smell the gun arabic.” He held it up. Barry leaned in, sniffed it, and pulled back with an astonished look. Nate did as well, looking horrified.

“But- but this has been here since 1952!” He protested weakly.

Len gave him an apologetic grimace. “It's been here less than a week.”

Nate whimpered.

* * *

They headed straight back to the office, meeting up with the rest of Barry's team before sitting in the conference room.

Barry saw Len and Cisco immediately make eye contact and acknowledge each other directly. Caitlin made a move to intervene, but Barry grabbed her elbow gently and shook his head. She bit her lip.

“Ramon.” Len inclined his head.

“Snart,” Cisco said, coolly.

A short, awkward silence.

“So you’re the one who broke my sister’s heart,” Len said, casually but cold.

“And you’re the one who broke my best friend's,” Cisco shot back. “We don’t have to like each other. Let’s just get the job done.”

Len nodded, spinning on his heels to stalk into the conference room. He settled into a chair and kicked his feet up on the table, ignoring the concerned looks from the others. Barry shook his head, _focus_ _on the job first._

He quickly caught Cisco, Wally, and Caitlin up on what they found out at the National Archives, pulling out the fake bond and laying it out on the table.

"Let's start over," Caitlin suggested. "From the beginning."

“Danton Black makes two trips to the National Archives,” Cisco said. “The first to take pictures, and the second to replace it with his copy.”

“Can we confirm this?” Barry demanded. Caitlin glanced at her phone.

“Just got word back from the labs.” Caitlin nodded. “Felicity took the sample you gave her and ran a timed ink identification test, putting the age of the bond at approximately six days.”

“That coincides with Black's visit,” Wally said.

“We’re pulling security footage now to be sure,” Cisco added.

"The question is, why go to the trouble of making a really nice forgery on the right kind of paper just to stick it back in the archives?” Barry leaned in on the table.

There was a silence until Len spoke up.

“Is the bond still negotiable?” he asked.

They all looked at him, incredulous at what he was implying.

“It’s zero option,” Barry added, slowly. “Never expires."

“What’s it worth?” Wally asked.

“Thousand dollar face value,” Cisco murmured. “Drawing nine percent interest-“

“Compounded for 64 years,” Caitlin added, eyes lighting up as she pulled out her calculator.

“Two hundred forty-eight thousand dollars,” Len finished.

Cisco hit the enter key. “Yeah, exactly,” he said.

“Almost a quarter of a million. And he’s got 600 sheets of this, at least,” Barry added.

They all looked at Len again. He blinked. “Uh- hundred fifty million, about.”

The team exchanged looks.

“He’d be a rich man if he could pass this off,” Caitlin said. “But still, why would he take out the real bond just to replace it with one of his fakes.”

There was another thoughtful silence.

Len snapped his fingers. “Well, let’s say he comes out with six hundred copies of these things and claims he dragged them out of the caves of Altamira. How would they be authenticated?”

Barry’s face lit up in understanding. “They would be taken and compared to the original-“

“-which he’s already switched out with one of his own!” Cisco grinned.

“So of course they’re gonna match.” Barry nodded, grinning. “This is good-“

He was interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Oh-“ He pulled out his phone. His eyes widened as he spotted the contact name and the time. “Oh no.” He gestured to the others to leave and answered. “Heyyyyyy, Iris... errr, would you believe me if I said I was pulling up right now?”

Iris’s laugh on the other end was as warm as it was in real life. “You lost track of time again, it happens.”

Barry winced. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’ve always been late, Barry. I know who I married,” Iris said, fondly.

“I hope you didn’t make dinner.”

“Oh, I know better than that, Barry Allen,” Iris teased. “So how’s Len doing?”

Barry smiled. Iris, his love, always knew what to say. “Good. We’re on to something, Iris.”

“That’s good!” Iris said, enthusiastically. “I get first scoop, right?”

Barry laughed. “You always do,” he promised. “I’ll be home soon. Ten minutes at the latest.”

“I know.” Iris’s voice was amused. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Barry hung up.

* * *

"So, Barry,” Len drawled. “Big plans for the weekend?”

Barry shrugged, making the next right turn. “Nothing major. Fixing the sink, going jogging, visiting family. The usual. Maybe run a few experiments in the basement...” he trailed off.

“Iris enjoys that?” Len raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she always loves seeing me nerd out.” Barry smiled goofily. “How great is that?”

Len made a noise of amusement. “Even on your anniversary?”

Barry practically swerved to pull over, slamming on the brakes. “Oh my god," he muttered, slamming his forehead on the steering wheel in frustration.

Len held back his laughter for Barry’s sake. “Relax, Barry. You still have a few days to figure something out.”

“No,” Barry groaned. “I did the exact same thing last year- and I said I’d make it extra special this year. Not just a crappy homemade dinner where I inevitably set something on fire and we have to order in.”

“Your breakfast is just fine.” Len insisted.

“I burnt pasta just last week.” Barry mourned. “Anyway, I wanted to do something nicer than a crappy dinner and- and a romp in the sheets.”

Len snorted. “Skip the dinner.” He advised.

“We’ve been married for years, Len.” Barry grunted. “Doesn’t cut it anymore.”

Len hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, problem solve, Barry. What’s she into?”

“What, in- in-“ Barry flushed. “In bed?”

“What- no, Barry,” Len rolled his eyes. “I already know _that_ , Scarlet, but I meant existentially. What makes her feel alive?”

Barry’s cheeks still red, he rubbed his eyes. “I-“ he sighed. “I don’t know.”

Len’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, you do,” he insisted. “There’s no way you don’t. How could you not know? You have known Iris since you were a kid.”

Barry flushed again, but this time in anger. “Knowing her for years doesn’t mean anything!” he retorted.

“Usually it does,” Len argued. “Most people I’ve known for years- I could rattle off their shoe size, their most recently played music. Especially if I’ve known them since I was nine!”

“Yeah, well,” Barry snapped, anger pushing the words up his throat, “at least no one I’ve known for that long had to change their identity and flee the country just to get away from me!”

The silence in the car was deafening.

Anger pounded at Barry’s ears, but that didn’t stop him from feeling immediately guilty. Len’s face had closed off. Barry started driving again, just so that the silence wouldn’t kill him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after about three minutes of painful, awkward silence. “I didn’t meant that.”

“Yeah you did.”

Barry sighed.

“Did she really flee the country?” Len asked, voice quieter.

“I don’t-“

“France? Did she go to Paris? She’s always wanted to go...” Len muttered to himself, just loud enough that Barry could hear.

“I don’t know,” Barry said, apologetically. They stopped at a red light.

“What am I going to do?” Barry sighed. “You know Iris probably just as well as I do.”

“Barry, if I recall, you were always the romantic,” Len drawled.

“Well, yeah, but that was, like, cheesy romantic,” Barry argued. “This is serious!”

Len shrugged. “Ask Wally,” he said, curtly. “He’s Iris’s brother, apparently. That’s an interesting development, by the way. I don’t recall there being another West.”

Barry turned onto Len’s street. “Iris’s mother ran off when she was a kid, and had her brother. Joe told everyone she died. She actually died a year ago, after Wally reintroduced himself into our lives. Pure coincidence, by the way. He just got put under me as a new probie, and he met Joe and... it was a bit of a mess.” he babbled as he pulled up in front of the house.

“I can imagine,” Len said, voice still icy.

Barry hesitated. "I really am sorry, Len, I shouldn't have-"

Len kicked the door open and climbed out of the car before Barry could continue. “Thanks for the ride, Barry.”

"Len-"

He slammed the door closed before Barry could say anything else.


	3. Chapter 3 - Len

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, Barry.” Iris beamed, holding a mug of coffee in her hands. Len looked at him, amused.
> 
> “You’re on my couch,” Barry said blankly, like his brain was short circuiting.
> 
> “I needed to talk to you,” Len said, simply.
> 
> “You’re sitting on my couch,” Barry repeated, then spotted the turtle sitting on Len’s lap. “And you’re... petting my turtle.”
> 
> “McSnurtle is such a sweetheart,” Len drawled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Even friendlier than you.”

Len climbed the stairs of the darkened house quietly. Tess was probably already asleep by now. That’s when he spotted a shadowy figure in the dining room. Len slowly climbed down the stairs again, fingers going for the gun Tess kept in the drawer next to the door. Slowly, he approached the figure and held the gun up, ready to shoot.

The figure slammed a beer bottle on the mahogany table. “You’re outta beer,” he grunted.

Len almost laughed. He lowered the gun, and flicked on the lights. “The hell, Mick? Sitting in the dark, waiting for me to come home? You looked like one of those cliche supervillains from comic books.”

Mick scoffed. “That was always your dream, Lenny, not mine, you gigantic nerd.”

Len sat down, placing the gun on the table. “How’d you get in?” he asked, curiously.

Mick rolled his eyes. “I used this.” He held up his fist. Len raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. “I knocked,” Mick admitted. “Introduced myself to Tess. Nice lady. Good alcohol selection.”

Len smiled a bit fondly. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I not?” Mick replied. “Can I see?”

Len sighed and kicked his leg up on the table, pulling up his pants enough to reveal the tracking anklet. Mick grunted. “Oof.”

“Can’t pick it?” Len asked, though already knew the answer.

“Nope, not possible.” Mick shook his head.

“Not even Raymond?” Len pressed.

Mick’s face hardened. “We’re not getting him involved.”

Len raised his arms up in defense. “Kidding, kidding. Relax, Mick. Do you have anything on Lisa?”

Mick exhaled. “Lisa... Lisa’s a ghost, buddy. If she wants to hide, you’re never gonna find her. She’s your sister, after all. You taught her.”

Len grimaced. “Keep looking,” he begged. “She’s my sister.”

Mick nodded. “I know. Anything else, boss?”

“Yeah.” Len leaned back in his chair. “I need you to help me figure out who created this.” He stood up and reached into his jacket pocket, unfolding the copy of the Spanish Victory bond and presenting it to Mick.

Mick squinted a bit. “It’s amazing,” he muttered, looking grudgingly impressed. “You know,” he offhandedly while inspecting the paper, “the worst part about art forgery is you can never take credit for your work.”

Len's eyes widened.

* * *

The door opened mere moments after Len released the doorbell. Iris West-Allen stood in the doorway, looking up at Len with a smile frozen on her face from shock.

Her eyes widened. "Leonard?"

Len swallowed the lump in his throat while trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants.

"Iris," he said, choked up suddenly.

Why hadn't he expected Iris to answer the door? He'd been so eager to see Barry, to show him what he'd discovered... he'd completely forgotten, for some reason, that he had yet to see Iris since his court appearance more than four years ago. It'd been a long time since he had seen her face, but Iris had not changed, much like Barry. She looked like he hadn't aged a day, while Len felt like he'd aged a decade. 

Iris shook herself quickly when it became abundantly clear Len hadn't been expecting to see her so suddenly. Len somehow got the feeling she wasn't expecting to see him so soon either. "How are you?"

Len coughed. "I'm..." He paused to think of a word. "...better," he finished, lamely.

Iris nodded slowly. "Did you... need something?" She asked hesitantly, still hovering at the entrance as if unsure whether to step out or invite him in.

"Yeah, I- uh... found a lead I wanted to show Barry-"

Iris's demeanor shifted a bit to relax. "Oh, the Wizard, right? You actually caught me in the middle of an article I was righting on him."

Len also felt himself relaxing. Something about Iris's presence always calmed him down, especially once she was also at ease. "Barry mentioned something about that. You get that promotion, right?"

Iris smiled faintly. "I got your congratulations card," she said.

Len grinned. "Good," he said. "You won't believe how much it cost to get that to you. Greetings cards are shockingly difficult to get a hold of in Iron Heights for some reason."

The joke did it. Iris let out a soft laugh, a genuine smile now gracing her features. She held the door open a bit more. "Come in, I was just about to make coffee anyways. Barry's getting ready, but he should be down in a moment."

Len stepped past the threshold to look around the foyer. Not much had changed at all, if a few decor additions and a change in drapes. Other than that, it looked almost identical to when he'd last seen it. Iris shut and locked the door once more.

"Sit down," she urged. "I'll get the coffee. You still take it the same?"

Len nodded, sitting on the couch in front of the coffee table and awkwardly wringing his hands. Iris returned merely a minute later, holding two cups of freshly brewed coffee. Len took his with a grateful smile. He inhaled the familiar scent before taking a sip. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend, if only for a second, four years had not gone by and he was still very much welcome on this couch, in this home, drinking this coffee.

He placed the coffee mug on a coaster on the table. "It's lovely, thanks," he said, quietly.

Iris smiled again, copying his actions once she sat beside him. "It's nice to see you, Leonard," she said, softly.

Len choked on his words a bit. "You as well," he admitted. "I've missed you."

Iris's eyes were sad, but her smile was fond. "So, what have you found?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Must be important if you went out of your radius to see my husband at home." 

Len paused a bit to pick up the mug again and take a long slip, earning him a few precious seconds to pause and go over Iris's words. Her emphasis on "my husband" was deliberate, like she wanted to remind Len of hers and Barry's relationship (like he _needed_ to be reminded).

"It is actually," Len promised, feeling more at ease now that they were discussing work instead of their history. He pulled out the fake bond from the national archives and laid it out flat, also producing a small, hand held pocket mirror against the paper. "See the peasant's pants? The letters."

"Initials?" Iris's eyes widened as she inspected the bond for herself. "MM. You recognize it," she guessed.

Len nodded. "An old associate, you can say," he said, elusively. "Doesn't like me so much." He took another sip of coffee.

Iris's smile was amused. "Oh, who could not like you, Leonard Snart?" she teased good-naturedly.

Len laughed a bit. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

Iris laughed again. Len smiled as well, trying not to wince at the undertone of their conversation. He let his eyes wander around the living room. A television, an arm chair, a bookshelf... a turtle?

The confused expression must have shown on his face, because Iris said, "That's Barry's turtle."

"Barry Allen," Len said slowly, "has a pet turtle?"

Iris shrugged, standing up to walk over to the bowl and pick up the turtle, which had to be bigger than Len's two hands. "He helped this guy out on a case once, and he gave Barry a turtle. I know, I know, it's a bit weird, but Barry loves that thing like it's his child or something." She was a bit mocking, but it sounded more fond than anything. 

"That's adorable." Len chuckled. Iris placed the turtle on Len's lap.

"The best part?" Iris grinned and leaned in, conspiratorially. "He named him 'McSnurtle.'"

A snort escaped Len. "McSnurtle," he repeated, incredulous.

Iris was still grinning and nodding.

Len sighed dramatically. "He should really leave the naming to Cisco."

Iris laughed. "That's exactly what Cisco said! Still, it's better than that goldfish he had when he was a teenager."

Len looked almost pained. "Oh dear, what did he name the poor thing?"

Iris was giggling. "Swimmie."

"Oh my god." Len felt like smacking his head on the table. Then, he said, "Why did he never mention he had a pet growing up?"

"I dunno." Iris shrugged. "Guess it never really came up. Therapists recommended he get a therapy animal, but Dad's allergic to cats and dogs, and Barry's terrified of tiny rodents- seriously, we were fifteen and in a pet store one time and he looked so freaked out when we passed the hamsters- so he got a goldfish. His therapist reconsidered the treatment after Swimmie died a few months later because Barry locked himself in his room for a week and cried."

Len couldn't stifle his laughter this time. His brain couldn't help but conjure up an image of a teenage Barry depressed over his pet goldfish dying, or being scared of tiny, adorable hamsters; it was just so _Barry Allen_ it almost pained him. This time, Iris joined in their laughter.

Suddenly, Barry came bounding down the stairs, his footsteps heavy like thunder. “Iris! I have to go! Len’s outside his...”

He slowed to a stop at the base of the stairs, one arm through his suit jacket and the other not, but clutching onto his open cell phone. "...radius," he finished slowly.

There was an awkward silence.

“ _Barry?_ ” a voice asked from Barry's phone.

“He’s with me,” Barry said, shortly, into the phone.

“ _You sure?_ ”

“Yes,” Barry said flatly, hanging up and turning to face his wife and his CI.

"Was that Ramon?" Len asked with interest.

Barry merely stared at him.

“Good morning, Barry.” Iris beamed, holding a mug of coffee in her hands. Len looked at him, amused.

“You’re on my couch,” Barry said blankly, like his brain was short circuiting.

“I needed to talk to you,” Len said, simply.

“You’re sitting on my couch,” Barry repeated, then spotted the turtle sitting on Len’s lap. “And you’re... petting my turtle.”

“McSnurtle is such a sweetheart,” Len drawled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Even friendlier than you.”

Barry ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god,” he muttered.

“We’re just chatting,” Iris told him, soothingly. Somehow, that didn’t help his mood. He tensed.

“About what? How did you even get here?!” he demanded.

Len rolled his eyes. “It’s called a taxi, Barry, try it once in a while.”

“Unbelievable,” Barry muttered.

“Is it true you're afraid of hamsters, Barry?” Len asked, half mischievous and half genuinely curious.

Barry’s face immediately flushed. “Oh my god,” he said, sounding betrayed. “You told him.”

“Barry,” Iris said in amusement.

“You told him.” Barry repeated, looking mortified. His words had begun taking on a whining tone.

Iris giggled. “Oh, come on, Barr, it's not that bad. To your credit, you barely react to the hamsters. Now, mice, on the other hand-“

“Iris!” Barry’s voice did not get higher.

Iris was grinning. “Oh, relax, Barr, I’m just teasing.”

Barry huffed. “I’m going to have you arrested,” he told Len, unlocking his phone to dial a number angrily.

Len rolled his eyes and cast a look at Iris like  _Can you believe him?_ before turning back to Barry and declaring, “I know who the Wizard is."

Barry's fingers slowed. He looked up from the phone before he could hit call. “Who?” he demanded.

“His name’s Mark Mardon.” Len grinned. “A damn good art restorer. His brother-“

“-was Clyde Mardon,” Barry finished, with a grimace. Len looked between him and Iris, who suddenly looked grim.

“You know him?” Len asked in confusion.

“Clyde Mardon, yeah. I know him.” Barry ran a hand through his hair. Len stayed quiet, letting Barry breathe deeply before explaining. “I killed him.”

Len’s eyes widened. “That sounds like a story.”

Barry shrugged. “Not really. It was a few cases after- well, you, actually. Clyde was caught for counterfeiting a painting, and we cornered him in his studio. Most guys we catch go without much fight, you know? We don’t exactly deal with murderers or bank robbers, so we were all taken aback when he took out a gun. He was going to shoot Cisco, and I had an opening... so I took it.” Barry grimaced. “It was my first kill. Unfortunately, not my last.”

“I’m guessing Mark Mardon knows your face,” Len sighed.

“Yeah, why?” Barry frowned.

“Well, he’s particularly well known for Goya restorations, as it so happens. And he’s doing a restoration downtown at a church, and I thought you could check it out or-” Len began, but Barry held a hand up.

“Wait, how do we even know for sure it’s even Mardon?” he demanded. “Better question, how do _you_ even know it’s Mardon? There’s no way to link him to the fake bond.”

Len grinned, like the cat that caught the canary. “He signed it.”

Barry stared at him. “I think we would have noticed his signature tucked in the corner,” he deadpanned.

Len looked at Iris, who smiled. “Show him,” she urged.

Len scooted over closer to Iris, giving Barry room to sit on his couch and lean over the coffee table. He squinted at the little hand held mirror Len had set up. “Look at the pants of the peasant. The initials M and M. This bond is him showing off,” Len said.

Barry picked up the bond, biting his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “It could just be a stretch.”

“This bond is a masterpiece. If I made it, I probably would’ve signed it too,” Len admitted. “I mean, the forgeries you caught me on- I signed those too.”

That got Barry’s attention his head snapped from the bond to Len. “What? Where?” he demanded.

Len smirked. “Look at the bank seal under polarized light sometime,” he suggested.

Barry merely glared in response, so Len decided to change the subject.

“The church is on 3rd street. I would’ve suggested we make a stop on our way in, but...” Len trailed off.

“Yeah, I’ll send Cisco and Caitlin to check it out. You wanna go with?” Barry asked.

Len immediately grimaced. “Ah... no. Not a great idea, I think.”

“What, think he’d recognize you?” Barry asked, standing up.

“No,” Len said, following his example. “I know he’s recognize me.” He pulled his jacket on and turned to Iris with a charming smile. “Nice seeing you again, Iris,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Iris managed a sad smile in return. “You too, Len.”

Heart heavy, Len managed a weak smile of his own and a tip of the head before he headed outside, refusing to send another glance back and have his heart broken by the sight of Barry and Iris together without him.


	4. Chapter 4 - Len

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len glanced through the file. “Is this... Iris’s visa bill?” he deadpanned, looking up at Barry incredulously.
> 
> “...yeah,” Barry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, like he'd only just realized how incredibly weird that sounded..
> 
> “You’re... stalking your wife?”
> 
> “You’re stalking your sister; wanna compare notes?” Barry glared.
> 
> Len shrugged. “Touche.”

Len slid into the chair in front of Barry’s desk.

“I need your help with this,” Barry said, seriously. Len picked up the file in front of him.

“This more information on Mardon?”

“...no,” Barry admitted. “Wally’s on his way with that.” He sounded almost embarrassed.

Len glanced through the file. “Is this... Iris’s visa bill?” he deadpanned, looking up at Barry incredulously.

“...yeah,” Barry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, like he'd only just realized how incredibly weird that sounded..

“You’re... stalking your wife?”

“You’re stalking your sister; wanna compare notes?” Barry glared.

Len shrugged. “Touche.”

He flipped through the file some more. “This tell you anything?”

“Well, it tells me what she likes. Jazz music, old mystery novels, lavender scented candles-“

“Barry, I could tell you that after one glance through your living room.” Len sighed. “You need to dig deeper. Music, books, candles... that’s all well and good, but it’s so surface level. I don’t think you’re gonna find anything really... deep, here.”

Barry sighed, leaning back in his chair. He slammed the file shut out of frustration. “Help me out here," he begged.

“You’re the romantic, Barry,” Len reminded.

“Cheesy romance, like I said before.” Barry sighed. “But you- you get people. You have these few relationships that are really strong. Like, what’s the deal with you and that bottle Lisa left you?”

Len sighed. “It’s an ‘82 Bordeaux.”

“Yeah, and it costs eight hundred bucks a pop,” Barry said. “I did my homework. What about it?”

“It costs eight hundred bucks when it’s full. Lisa left the bottle empty,” Len said simply.

Barry’s eyes widened. “Empty?” he repeated.

Len stared out Barry’s office window. “When Lisa and I were growing up, we had nothing. Two dead mothers, a drunk, abusive, deadbeat father. When Dad was out of the house, my sister and I would crawl onto her mom’s old bed and curl under the covers when the weather started turning cold. I got that bottle and we’d fill it up with cheap wine- apple juice before she turned 16- and we’d sit in that crappy apartment, eating cold pizza and pretending we were... I don’t know, royalty, rich, living in the  _Cote d'azur_. Sipping expensive wine anywhere but where we actually were.” Len closed his eyes briefly. Barry waited patiently for Len to continue. “But that bottle was a promise of a better life. What Lisa got was a deadbeat brother who ditched her as soon as he turned 18, then got locked up for half a decade after they reconcile.”

There were a short pause before Len continued, looking Barry in the eye. “You make Iris any promises, Barry? Or do you really think what she wants is,” he glanced at the bill and scoffed, “Japanese cherry blossom hand lotion?”

Before Barry could even open his mouth to reply, there was a knock at the door.

Len drew up his walls again, allowing his cold expression slide back into place.

“Cisco,” Barry said. “What’ve we got?”

Cisco dropped a file in front of Barry.

“Looks like your hunch was right,” he said to Len.

Len opened the file. It was a large photograph of a painting in a church. Then, a zoomed in picture with the initials clear: MM.

“Caitlin and I found it in the church you pointed us to,“ Cisco said. “That was this morning. I just got an update about Mardon, though, from Felicity.”

“What is it?” Barry asked.

“Mardon’s leaving the country,” Cisco said, grimly. “He booked a flight through a charter company in Barcelona for the 19th.”

“Dammit, that’s gives us a week,” Barry growled, rubbing his head. “Seeing you and Cait must have tipped him off. I should’ve sent you in after reconnaissance, when he wasn’t in.”

“He’s going to Spain,” Len pointed out. “That’s something.”

“Is there any connection we have between the bonds, the books, the murder?” Barry asked.

Cisco shook his head. “Mardon’s impressive.”

“I want every available agent on this,” Barry said, with a glower. “No excuses. If anything gets in your way-“

“Forge your signature,” Cisco grinned, picking up the file again and heading out. “I got it.”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Barry said, with a small smile. Cisco closed the door on his way out as Barry stood up and turned to address Len.

“If you’re right about this, Len, then we have a week to connect him to the bond. If we lose him...” He looked at Len, apologetic and pained. “I can’t help you, Len, you’re back in.”

* * *

Len threw his hat on the table.

“You’re late,” Mick grunted.

Len tore off his scarf as well. “Difficult to keep a schedule when Barry Allen’s the one driving you places. For someone so high up in the FBI, he’d still be late to his own funeral.”

“So?” Mick asked, expectantly.

“Well.” Len sat down. “We were right about Mardon.”

Mick scoffed. “Of course we were right," he said. “What’s the problem?” 

“He got spooked. We’ve got a week to connect him to the bonds, or I’m back in.”

“That’s not good.”

“Yeah. I'll figure something out.” Len exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “Got anything on Lisa?”

Silently, Mick slid a photograph across the table. Len turned it rightside up so he could see it.

His eyes widened, his fingers brushing against the photo of Lisa. It was a bit blurred, but it was definitely her. She was wearing a blonde wig and looking behind her, and a man’s hand on her shoulder. The hand had a signet ring on the pinky.

“I can’t lose her again, Mick,” Len said, throat thick with emotion.

Mick squeezed his shoulder. “You won't.”

* * *

“So, Barry,” Len drawled, his fingers twitching and fiddling with the folded piece of paper in his pocket. “You remember when you told me not to go looking for Lisa?”

Barry stopped in his tracks. “Len,” he said, voice flat and a bit hurt.

Len held out the folded photograph. Barry took it, unfolded the picture, and sighed.

“This was taken at an ATM in San Diego, three days ago. Lisa’s been going under the name Lisa Ezra.”

“And?”

“ _Ezra_. It’s a Hebrew word, for-“

“Help, I know.” Barry’s lips thinned.

Len wanted to continue, pointing out that Lisa had not grown up with the few Jewish practices his own mother had left him (including some few words in Hebrew he vaguely remembered), so her fake last name was _clearly_ a message for _him_ , when Barry's words suddenly hit him full force.

Len froze. “You already knew about it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” Barry sighed, looking so disappointed Len almost felt a spark of guilt. He pushed it aside in favor of anger.

“You knew- how long?” he demanded. "Dammit, Barry, that's my  _sister_."

Barry scoffed, thrusting the picture back into Len’s chest. “A few days, Len, but please,  _drop it_.” He started walking. Len picked up the pace, almost jogging to keep up with him.

“I just need a few days,” Len pushed, trying to bite back his anger at Barry. “After we catch Mardon-“

“Len, please.”

“-just two, okay? In San Diego-“

“Len.”

“-you could come with me or an agent-“

Barry spun on his heels, glaring at Len a mere two inches from his face. “Stop it!” He finally snapped. The words died in Len’s throat.

"Barry..."

Barry's hands were clenched into fists. “Dammit, Len, how many times are you going to screw up your life for Lisa, huh? I understand the Lewis situation- you of all people know I do. But this? Len, I hate to break it to you, but she told you in person to not come after her. Lisa’s a big girl who can take care of herself. And she didn’t get that way because you were looking after her the whole time, okay, because you weren’t. She got there on her own, because she’s a goddamn adult who can make her own goddamn decisions without her big brother holding her hand! So for once in you life, stop making decisions for her and start thinking about how to fix your own life!” Barry was red in the face at the end of his rant.

Len stared at him, wide eyed. Neither spoke. Len took a breath. “You’re right," he said, finally. He watched Barry’s eyes widen in slight surprise at that. “You’re right, Barry. Lisa’s a big girl, now. She’s strong- she’s been taking care of herself for a long time. And I’m partially responsible for that. I need to let her go, let her live her own life.”

Barry voice softened. “I'm sorry I yelled. I get it, you know. Your sister- you’ve always looked out for her. Letting her go, that must be difficult. But I’m serious, Len. I’m really trying here- Iris too- we’re trying to give you this second chance, as difficult as it might be. So please, just let us. And help  _yourself_ , Len, because God knows we can’t do anything if you aren’t willing to make that change.”

There was a lump in Len’s throat, making it impossible for him to speak. He swallowed and nodded instead. Barry squeezed his shoulder, smiled sadly, and continued walking. Len stared at his back for a moment, pained, before picking up the pace to keep up.

The rest of their walk to the FBI building was done in silence, until Len halted and spotted Mick standing amongst a group of smokers. They made eye contact, and Len blinked.

“Uh, you know what, you go on in without me, Barry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna grab a smoke real quick.”

Barry blinked in mild surprise. “I didn’t know you smoked.” He didn’t sound accusing or suspicious, only curious.

“Nasty habit from prison,“ Len said, smoothly.

Barry shrugged. “Yeah sure. I had a cigarette once when I was sixteen- couldn’t stop coughing. Never touched a cigarette since then. Hey, Jax!” He called over.

The younger agent looked up. Jax wasn’t smoking himself, but he was conversing with another man who was.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Jax nodded in acknowledgement.

Len approached Mick cautiously, like one would a stranger. “You got a spare?” He asked.

Mick brandished a small box of cigarettes. “These’ll kill ya’,” he grunted. Len took one with a cocked eyebrow. Mick held up a light, and continued. “Not me, though, I tear the filters off.”

Len hummed in acknowledgement. He lifted the cigarette to his lips to cover the smirk forming on his face.

Once back in the offices, Len peeled away the remains of the filter over the cigarette to reveal a scrolled up piece of paper. He smirked, immediately taking off to Barry’s office and barging in.

Barry looked up from his desk, and beamed at Len. He paused, taken aback by the expression. “I found my bottle!” Barry said, with excitement.

Len held up the slip of paper. “I found Mardon.”

The smile slipped off Barry’s face. “You first.”

“It’s this farm on the outskirts of town, near Keystone,” Len explained, shutting the door behind them.

“How’d you find this out?” Barry asked, suspiciously.

Len shrugged. “I rely on rumor more than the FBI does.” he said, truthfully. Barry shot him a look like he knew Len was omitting something, but wasn't in the mood to try and press for more. 

Barry stood up, grabbing his jacket with one hand and his keys with another. "Well?" he said. "Let's check it out."

Len's eyebrows shot up. "Now?"

"Now," Barry repeated, nodding.

The farm was run down and barren. It clearly had not been used in a long time, yet there were noises coming from inside the barn. 

“You hear that?” Len whispered. “Listen.”

They pressed their ears against the barn’s wall.

“What is that?” Barry muttered.

“Sounds to me like a printing press.” Len smirked.

“Damn, they’re printing it right now.” Barry’s eyes widened. “How long ‘till they’re done?”

“A multi-color print shop as complicated as the Goya. Test proofs, ink formulation, perfection registration, he'll be running it for days,” Len said. “Besides, he’s booked a flight out for the 19th, so he’s expecting to be done by then.”

Barry gestured for Len to follow. They returned to his car down the road. As soon as the door closed, Barry grinned and started the engine. “I am 100% on board with this. Mardon’s definitely our guy. Unfortunately, it won’t be enough for a warrant.”

Len looked at him incredulously. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. We know the bonds are there, we’ve just gotta open the door.”

Barry sighed. “You should borrow a book in my office about warrant law, Len. On paper, all we have is some mysterious noises and a few anonymous tips from your friend.”

Len tensed. “What friend?”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Len, it doesn’t suit you," he told him. "The friend who fed you all that information.”

“I have no idea what-“

“Jax might be green, but he’s certainly not an idiot,” Barry said dryly. “I need to talk to your friend. It may be the only way to connect Mardon to the bonds.”

Len bit his lip. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll introduce you first thing tomorrow.”

* * *

Barry was  _not_  meeting Mick, under any circumstances.

Retired or not, he wasn't sure Mick would have the best reaction if Len forced an introduction between his long time friend, who was as anarchist as anyone could get, and a federal agent, who happened to be Len’s old flame. Mick would lash out, probably violently, then disappear, and Len did not want that. He’d built himself a good life as Mick Rory, part time volunteer fireman and doting husband to the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. And for once, it wasn’t a scam; Len didn’t want to be the cause for Mick losing everything he loved, because he knew he would.

So Len would have to come up with a solution  _now_. He read through the more important points of Warrant Law; specifically regarding those "technically” considered civilians. Barry might not be able to enter that warehouse, but as a CI, wasn’t it  _Len’s_  job to get where the FBI couldn’t?

He glanced at his anklet, an idea forming in his head, He skimmed the book for a certain chapter, then smirked once he got what he wanted. Mind made up, he slammed the book shut, stood up, and exited the guest room.

“Tess!” he called out. “I need to borrow your car!”

Len exited the car in front of the farm, making it obnoxiously evident that he was taking pictures of the barn and the men outside of it.

The guards immediately started storming toward him. He offered a friendly smile and a wave. “Good morning,” he greeted.

“What’re you doing?” one of them snarled. “This is private property!”

“Oh, I’m an art student. I have this assignment to photograph run down buildings-“

One man snatches his camera out of his hands while two grab either arm.

“Take him inside,” one grunted.

“Hey-“ Len protested weakly as they dragged him inside the barn. Len fell silent as he looked around.

There were several men hard at work around three printing presses, surrounded by piles of copies of Snow White. In the center of it all was a glass office, which was where they were dragging him toward. They opened the door and shoved him inside roughly.

“Go get Mardon!” one of them snapped.

As soon as Len stabilized himself, he lunged for the doorknob and locked the door from he inside.

“What is going on?!” Mardon roared, running toward them. He glared at Len. “Snart," he sneered. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“He was taking pictures,” one of the guards answered as another ran off.

Mardon slammed a fist into the glass. “Open up!” he snarled. “Or you’re a dead man!”

Len smirked, strolling around the decorated desk to sit in the large, leather, rolling chair. “Hm, that sounds like inch thick Lexan.” He mused.

“My men are getting that key right now,” Mardon grit out. “As soon as this door opens, you’re dead.”

Len smiled smugly, leaning back in the chair and kicking his feet up. “You really shouldn’t have signed those bonds.” He scolded. “I’ll be the first to own up to my own vanity, though, so I completely understand the impulse.”

“You won’t leave this barn alive, you hear me?” Mardon roared. “I hope whatever you think you’re getting out of this is worth it.”

Len thought about Barry, then about Iris. He smiled.

“It is," he said, and meant it.

From the distance, they could hear sirens wailing.  Mardon and his men looked around, confused and nervous. Len made eye contact with Mardon, and pulled his pant leg up to reveal his anklet, which was blinking an angry red.

Mardon’s facial expression went from confusion, to realization, to fury. “You son of a bitch- Move!” he barked. “Grab everything you can and move! We need to get out of here!”

Len leaned back more, grinning.  _They won’t have the time._

The doors slammed open. Federal Agents burst in and swarmed them, guns raised. “Freeze! Hands in the air!”

Mardon’s men surrendered easily; they weren’t idiots.

Barry slid into the building quickly after. He was smiling, smugly.

Mardon’s eyes zeroed in on him. He snarled- if he didn’t have about three officers with their guns pointed right at him, it was likely he would have tried to lunge at Barry.

“Allen!” he bellowed. “You can’t do this! This is private property, dammit! You need a warrant-“

“Actually,” Barry cut him off cheerfully. “This is what we call exigent circumstances. Wally?”

The shorter man eagerly kept pace with his mentor. “Exigent circumstance allows us to pursue a suspect onto private property without obtaining a warrant,"  recited, with a grin.

“And to seize any and all evidence that is discovered in plain view, regardless of the connection to the original crime.” Cisco added, picking up one of the bonds from a pile and waving it in the air.

Barry smirked and stalked straight toward the office as Len unlocked the door and held it open. “You know,” Barry said. “You’re pretty bad at this escape thing.” His eyes shined with amusement.

“You should arrest me,” Len teased.

Barry snorted. “You  _are_  technically a fleeing suspect.”

Len shrugged. “Somehow, I think they’ll forgive me.” he said, jerking his head toward an opened safe next to the desk. Barry turned his gaze toward the safe, allowing a laugh to escape his throat.

“Is that...”

“The original victory bond?” Len grinned, hopping up on top of the desk. “Why yes, yes it is.”

Barry was laughing, smiling. He pushed himself up on the desk beside Len. “You know,” Barry said, smiling. “this makes me 3-0.”

Len shrugged. “Maybe I haven’t been trying very hard. And, well, it’s difficult to wanna run from you, Scarlet.”

Barry’s cheeks flushed.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”They… made a decision?” Len’s voice was weak.
> 
> Barry pulled out a badge with a mischievous smile. “I- ah, reminded them that even if they didn’t give you one, you’d probably end up making one yourself.”
> 
> Len huffed out a laugh and took the badge. “I’m FBI now.” He said, in disbelief.
> 
> “FBI consultant.” Barry quickly corrected.
> 
> Len shrugged. “Same difference.”

“Watch your step,” Barry said, unable to keep the excitement out of his own voice as he held Iris with on hand clasped in hers and another on her hip, gently guiding her.

Iris giggled. “I’m okay,” she promised. “Can I take the blindfold off yet?”

“Wait…” Barry positioned her to face the surprise. “Aaaaaand...” He tore off the blindfold. “Ta da!”

Iris blinked a few times. It was Len’s terrace, decorated with beach chairs and palm trees. Strings of lights hung from the walls and the umbrella. There was a bonfire in the middle, heating up the cold, winter air. “What is this?” Iris asked, a smile growing on her face as she turned to face her husband.

Barry was smiling sweetly, looking almost more excited than Iris herself. “Well, you remember how every year I promise you we’re gonna go?”

“To the Caribbean.” Iris nodded, heart bursting with excitement. He held up a couple pieces of paper. Iris snatched it, eyes wide.

“No way...” she said, breathlessly.

“I found the time,” Barry smiled.

“Bahamas. Just you and me.”

“Oh my god.” Iris was squealing. “Oh, Barry...”

Barry kissed her. “Now, I can’t take all the credit,” he admitted. “Len and I were talking, actually. He asked me if there were any promises I made to you, and... I immediately thought of two. One, was this, obviously.” He pointed at the tickets as Iris laughed a bit. “The second was to give Len another chance. And after the Mardon thing, I really do think he deserves it,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I just lost hope, but this case reminded me of how much I believed- _believe,_ in Len. In his goodness. In his ability to do more with his life.”

Iris was smiling at him. “Oh, Barry, you have such a good heart.” She kissed him deeply. “Thank you, you’re the best. I just know things are gonna work out.”

”Well,” Barry said, smile only growing, “if my smart wife believes it, then it must be true,” he teased, leaning in a bit  

”I love you,” she murmured, her voice soft but perfectly clear to Barry, only a mere inch away  

Barry smiled back. “I love you too.” He closed the gap between them.

* * *

 “Nice view,” Barry said. Len turned around and gave him a half smile. Barry was in his usual work suit, but Len was still in his morning robes, holding two cups of espresso.

“The best,” Len agreed. “Iris like it?”

“Oh yeah, she loves the Central City skyline. You knew that.”

“I do.” Len nodded, a small smile on his face as he held the cup to Barry.

“Thanks for letting me use the terrace,” Barry murmured, taking the coffee gratefully and taking step closer to the older man so that they were almost shoulder to shoulder, gazing at Len’s view of the city.

“No problem,” Len said. “I don’t mind taking Tess’s couch if it means Iris is happy.”

Barry smiled. “I appreciate that,” he said, maybe a little too earnestly.

They lasped into a comfortable silence, sipping their coffees as they gazed at the city before them until Len broke it. “I’m glad you two could keep going, even after the disaster that was Michael Scofield came in and out of your life.”

He continued to stare out at the view, but Barry’s head had turned to look at Len intently.

His gaze was soft. “Michael Scofield was both the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to us,” he admitted, quietly. “Leonard Snart, on the other hand... well, it’s yet to be seen.”

Len’s head snapped to look at him in shock. Barry was smiling softly.

“And…” Barry’s hand found his. “I want to see. What the future holds, with Leonard Snart.”

“They… made a decision?” Len’s voice was weak.

Barry pulled out a badge with a mischievous smile. “I- ah, reminded them that even if they didn’t give you one, you’d probably end up making one yourself.”

Len huffed out a laugh and took the badge. “I’m FBI now,” he said, in disbelief.

“FBI consultant,” Barry quickly corrected, before he got any bad ideas.

Len shrugged. “Same difference,” he said, eyes swimming with mirth.

Barry laughed, and moved to stand. “Iris and I will be gone for two weeks. You’ll be here when we get back?” He sounded so unsure, so hesitant. It was more vulnerable than he meant it to be.

But Len only smiled. “Where would I go?” he asked.

Barry suddenly pulled the other man into a hug. Len tensed, then slowly eased into the hug, and reached up to touch Barry’s back with his hands. He closed his eyes, felt the warmth of Barry’s body pressed up against his, and immortalized the feeling in his memory forever.


End file.
